


Crooked Frames and Cracked Glazings

by ignis_kun



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst and Feels, Blood and Violence, Body Horror, Character Death, Depression, Gen, Murder, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prison, Suicidal Thoughts, Tennis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:40:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23904787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ignis_kun/pseuds/ignis_kun
Summary: Ryoma Hoshi used to be a promising young man. He was a talented tennis player, close bonds with his teammates, a girlfriend he dearly loved and a Russian blue named Ambrose.Now that was all gone, replaced the hollow shell of the man he used to be.---AKA I give Ryoma the muse backstory treatmentBased on the song "Time" by Pink Floyd, "Neglected Space" by Imogen Heap and a sleu of other songs.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	Crooked Frames and Cracked Glazings

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning for this first chapter: Mentions of Murder, Death and Emotional Distress along with mild body horror

Cold, dark. These were the only sensations Hoshi had felt for the past two years. Suitable for a man who had lost all hope in himself.  
  
The short man etched another tally into the stone wall with a loose piece of concrete he had picked from the cracking floor of the cell that housed him. The scratch joined a mandala of others lining the wall of his cell, a daily ritualistic repetition often performed by cracking, raw fingernails. How many days had it been? He would count the tallies, but there seemed to be no point in such a useless task. He had nothing other than the scratches and the concrete, the cell itself was bare, only with a bed and the small window to the outside, overlooking the small outdoor area the prison provided. This may have supposed to be some kind of symbol of hope, a better future to look forward to when convicts were supposed to integrate into a better society as better people.  
  
Yet, Ryoma Hoshi was not one of these people. He was living the last days of his life in complete and utter misery, his feelings of guilt and self-hatred weighing on him. He was a man making a march to his inevitable death for the numerous lives he had taken. Hoshi had already shed all the tears he could cry over his losses, and whenever he tried he found himself coming up dry.  
  
Once, he had been a promising young man. A talented tennis player with a bright future, winning matches for his team and finding grueling exercise and practice entertaining and enjoyable. The smiling faces of his teammates after a long match and the light-hearted conversations he observed in after-match celebrations. He had a loving girlfriend who he spoiled dearly, and whose smile never failed to bring light into his day. Parents who supported him no matter what.  
  
However, this could be further for the truth today. There were no light-hearted conversations, no laughing, no people who treated him with the same respect those people had. He had lost everything. Freedom, family, comfort and love had all become foreign words to him in this cruel, inescapable place.  
  
He could still vividly remember his crimes. The weight of the steel ball in his hand as he threw it up and hit it as hard as he could over and over again, the rawness in his throat from screaming and losing his temper. Most of all, he remembered the utter sense of guilt as he saw pink run down and hit his shoes and came back to his senses. The horror in the eyes of the people who saw him on trial, the shunning from those previously warm smiles and tight bonds broken. The sinking feeling he got when he was given his sentence.  
  
He didn’t forget why he did it either. He could never forget watching his parents being declared dead on sight as they were wheeled away for an autopsy, the ghost town his house had felt like afterwards. He remembers the utter anxiety he experienced from having to hide his girlfriend to a safe location, and the momentary relief that followed. The mafia weren’t fools though, he was the fool for thinking they were safe and fate soon caught up to her as well and took her life. The utter heartbreak he experienced when he opened the door to be greeted by a cold corpse.  
  
What was it all over? A fixed tennis match numerous influential had bet on, and his competitors enraged and reputations ruined.  
  
Looking up to that same window, he found himself focusing more on the bars than the scene past them. He was utterly doomed, and he didn’t have the energy to fight back against it anymore.   
  
All he could do is watch his life go by, and try to remember why he tried in the first place.


End file.
